Everything happened so quickly, my mind and heart could not keep up. It was pitch-black, my heart was slowly slipping into the infinite abyss of no return, my mental state was treading upon the thin line of in-sanity, my visions became murky. I was thrown into abject submission, oblivious about what my future could hold.
Darkness spanned as far as I could perceive, it was pitch black, I could not even see myself at times. Overwhelming almost. I was subjected to sheer pressure and trash talks from all directions, the negativity was promulgating as contagiously as the positivity that I experienced outside. The will of the people inside were mostly dejected as if they were aimless about being alive.
As the days passed, my life was ebbing away without me realising it, I was still content with whatever that I entered, I was still innocently believing that this place could elevate my productivity to another level. Unfortunately, the another level was bringing me lower, depreciating me.
I wanted to get out, but I told myself, just do it. I thought I could, I had the confidence. When the days got harder, the darkness attached itself to me slowly, piece by piece, devouring me as a whole. Gradually, I could not think of anything to write, my ideas were running dry; I could not be passionate to do what I do, my compassion was extinguished; I could not think out of the box, my imaginations were kept inside the black box.
Pressure, anxiety, every bit of those bad things started to creep into my veins. When I am not doing what I wanted to do, naturally, my instincts will build a defence mechanism that will result in a lot of hiding away from my problems. I was locked up in my will, it was too late to regret, I reckoned. I just have to finish this. That’s all.
When a new challenge arose in the black box, this is difficult. What is this? Some sort of reluctance and rejection was my response. I could not think about any positive thoughts when facing all of these. Little did I know, the darkness had bore a hole in my heart through my soul, emptied out the very last bits of hope of me.
My mind began to grow into conformity. I was all alone in this. I forgot about the people around me and the high above. All that I needed at this point of life was me. I knew and I must pull this crazy stunt off, or else.
I don’t know. Losing myself.
I was given a leeway from time to time in order to take a breather but the blackness of the black box extended even outside of its territory, into my very mind, keeping my faculty of thoughts inked with nothingness and darkness, hampering me as a person.
As I went back into the black box, I stayed there even longer, my willpower was dwindling as I was going on with the black box. Not to mention, my creativity was murdered by my own hands inside the black box. The darkness inside it was immeasurable, unfathomable, it did all these awful things to me that I could not retaliate, but just to accept them- tortures, willingly.
Bruises formed, scars on my body were fresh, laceration of my flesh was inadvertently by the unknown darkness. Pain is inevitable, sufferings are optional. I always had the option to pull myself out from the system, but I chose not to. These were the consequences that I had to suffer, the pain that I had to endure.
Months later, I could not even stand, I did not even try to do so, I just sat there, waiting for a miracle to happen. Waiting and waiting, I did not do anything, at all. Eventually, I began to lose my vision, my senses, and myself, engulfed by the darkness around me, conforming to the darkness.
I lost my purpose to even live. Hopes and dreams shattered, joy and excitement obliterated, my life was in shambles. Do you even have one?
Nothing really matters anymore, this life… “Is meaningless.” Sliding obediently into depression’s arm, I called it my new home, a comfort zone that felt so good when even thinking of moving was unpleasant.
Previously: Black Box #one